


The Art of Surprise

by mymetalphantom



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: Kink Meme, M/M, Orgasm Control, Prompt Fill, inappropriate uses of magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 19:04:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5016598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mymetalphantom/pseuds/mymetalphantom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was known to all that John Childermass was a calm and collected fellow, not prone to fits of temper, not prone to worry overmuch, and notoriously difficult to shock.  It followed therefore that a man such as Gilbert Norrell, with his highly routinized life and his tendency to be over-cautious, was completely incapable of surprising Childermass.</p>
<p>A kink meme fill asking for Childermass/Norrell - magical orgasm/control over Childermass' body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Surprise

It was known to all that John Childermass was a calm and collected fellow, not prone to fits of temper, not prone to worry overmuch, and notoriously difficult to shock.  It followed therefore that a man such as Gilbert Norrell, with his highly routinized life and his tendency to be over-cautious, was completely incapable of surprising Childermass.

Childermass had simply become too good at reading his master.  He could even predict his moods, which were as erratic and ever-changing as the English weather.  Childermass prided himself on being able to tell at a glance when Mr Norrell was falling headlong into a black mood with the same surety as a farmer could see rain following on the heels of the sun just by looking out of the window.

He had not even been surprised to learn that Mr Norrell’s interest in him went deeper than that of a master towards his loyal servant.  Anybody but Childermass would probably have been shocked to learn that a man such as Gilbert Norrell (who did not appear to give anyone anywhere any consideration at all), would have such desires.  But a few years in his service, observing the lingering looks that his master would give him, the way he blushed at any and all physical contact, told Childermass that he was a man with desires like many others.  And as unflappable as Childermass was, he accepted this readily.  Of course Norrell would desire him; he was the only person who had ever been able to anticipate his every want; understand his every need.

In fact he was quite flattered, knowing that not just anyone would have attracted such attention.  He found it very arousing, if he was honest, to have piqued the interest in someone usually so uninterested. 

When he was given the keys to the library at Hurtfew, Childermass had taken it as a clear invitation to finally put them both out of their misery.  He had kissed his master right there, amongst precious rare first editions and well-thumbed and beloved tomes.

It was as far as they ever got in that room; all other activities were enjoyed in the master bedroom.  This wasn’t surprising either.  Norrell would not wish to defile all his lovely books.

That Norrell was inexperienced would have come as no surprise to anyone at all.  The fact that he was so eager to learn might shock some, but not Childermass, who had witnessed him mentally devour every book he could get his hands on to learn more.  Childermass had seen the way Norrell would practice this spell or that and practice and practice until he was physically and emotional exhausted.  It was a side that not everyone was privileged to see.

And with all these things considered, it didn’t come as any surprise at all to Childermass that, in spite of having had prettier lovers, more experienced lovers and lovers who were decidedly less difficult and demanding, he had never had one he felt this much affection for.  There was just something so vulnerable about Norrell, beneath his fussiness and prickly manner.

He had become comfortable with the predictability of it all.  He would carry out his duties, run his errands, and conduct Mr Norrell’s business.  And every few days or so, when he could feel a familiar tension building in his employer, he would go to bed with him and they would find relief together.

So Childermass had to hide a smile in the pillow when one morning Norrell turned to him and said; “it might surprise you to learn that I have quite changed my mind on Belasis.”

Childermass straightened his face and looked over at Norrell, whose head was close to his on the pillow, his blue eyes a dull grey in the pale early morning light filtering through the windows.  He had been reading and reading Belasis, performing spell after spell and getting increasingly more frustrated by the uselessness of many of them.  Only someone who had not been paying attention would be surprised at Norrell’s change of mind.  “No, sir,” Childermass replied in a voice roughened by sleep.  “Nothing you do would surprise me.”

It was not the most tactful of things to say, but Childermass blamed the earliness of the hour and the fact that his master had kept him occupied for most of the night.

Norrell backed away, propping himself back on his elbows so he could look down at Childermass in indignation.  “What do you mean by that?”

“It is nothing bad, sir,” Childermass was quick to assure him.  “I believe it is considered healthy for a gentleman to have regular habits.”

“You mean I bore you,” Norrell said in a huff, shuffling away from Childermass to the cold side of the bed.

Childermass shook his head, pondering the sort of mental gymnastics Norrell had had to perform in order to reach that conclusion.  “Only you would take that away from what I said.”

He moved closer to Norrell, leaned down and kissed him.  He sucked languidly on his pouting bottom lip before he pulled away reluctantly.  “Come, sir, we must move now, or everyone will wonder why you didn’t make it down to breakfast on time.”  With that, he climbed out of the bed.

Childermass paused for a moment in collecting his clothes, when he realised that Norrell had not moved and when he turned back he saw that the older man was sat up and was looking at him as though he wanted to say something.

He held his breath for a long moment, waiting for what Norrell was about to say.  The man seemed to be warring with himself, as though some part of him was about to tell Childermass that, no he did not want to go down for breakfast, he wanted Childermass to come back to bed and bugger him senseless the entire morning.  The other part wanted to tell him, yes of course, get my things ready.  If Norrell decided to ignore the latter in favour of the former, then that really _would_ surprise Childermass!

Norrell just closed his eyes and let out a pained groan.  “Very well, Childermass,” he said eventually.  “Get my things ready.”

“Of course, sir,” Childermass replied, smirking to himself.

After that morning Norrell’s affection for Childermass seemed to cool a little.  As much as it annoyed Childermass, he had expected such a response, knowing that he had embarrassed Norrell.  He tried to broach it one day, when they were sat together in the library.  Childermass had apologised if his words had given offence.  Norrell merely shrugged and assured him he had forgotten about the whole thing before losing himself again in his new book; the new book that Childermass had not been allowed to see.

Now, Mr Norrell could be an artful little beast when he wanted to be, and had no doubt told many lies that Childermass had not seen through.  This, however, was not one of them.  Indeed, the lie was so blatantly obvious that Childermass could only assume that Norrell wanted him to know that he wasn’t forgiven, and that Norrell had almost certainly not forgotten.

Childermass rolled his eyes and set back to work, thinking how typical it was for Norrell to behave like this.

****

This period of coolness between the two men left Childermass feeling quite bereft.  In fact, he hadn’t quite realised how deeply his feelings ran until this moment, when he was forced to admit that he missed their intimacy.  Missed the sex, yes, of course, but more than that; missed the closeness.  The relaxed air between them as they both carried on with the day.  The comforting moments when Norrell would be reading by the fire and Childermass would be writing his letters and there would be an atmosphere of calm, and serenity that could only exist between people who were so comfortable with each other.

It had been spoiled now, Childermass thought one evening as he picked up his pen and began to write.  After a few lines he paused and absently bit at the end of the pen, glancing over at Norrell sat by the fire.  He looked tense again, even though he was in his favourite chair, indulging in his favourite past-time in the comforting warm glow of the fire and the lamps.

To think, it was only a few short days ago that Childermass would have got up and suggested to Norrell that he go to bed early.  And that he would join him in a moment.  Then, after making sure the house was secure and guaranteeing they would not be disturbed, he would have gone to the master bedroom and climbed into bed with his employer.

He smiled fondly as he thought of those first kisses; shy and tentative at first, even after all this time, and then bolder and more passionate as things became heated.

Childermass had leaned back in his chair as his mind wandered, but after only a moment he sat back up quickly, realising that his naughty thoughts had led to a rather predictable reaction.  He felt the warm tingling at his groin which, at any other time would have been welcomed, but at that moment was just an annoyance.

He coughed gently, his throat suddenly feeling quite dry, and tried to refocus on the letter before him.

But it was hopeless.  The images seemed to have burned themselves into his brain, and he could not concentrate on anything else.  Worse, the warm tingling had now turned to a low, dull throb as he felt himself harden in his breeches.

He nervously glanced over at Norrell, who was still by the fire, lost in his book and paying him no attention at all.  And all the while, the pressure that seemed to be building in Childermass was becoming intolerable.

He was just about to take his leave when he felt something curious.  He could have sworn that he could feel light fingers trailing up and down his cock, which was hard and getting harder by the moment.  He blinked a few times to try and clear his head, convinced that it was just his over-active imagination.  How could there be a hand upon him? He thought as he looked down at the obscene tent he was making in his trousers.  Unless…

He looked over towards Norrell again, who had not moved and was still completely oblivious to him.  Whilst the fingers continued their merry dance along his now painfully erect member.

Just as he thought that maybe he should excuse himself and find somewhere private to sort himself out, what was unmistakably a phantom thumb brushed against the tip of his cock, sending a shock skittering up his spine, causing lights to flash behind his eyes.  He let out a surprised yelp and finally, Mr Norrell looked up from his book.  But he did not look over at Childermass, just stared straight ahead.

“Is there something the matter?” he asked, not sounding concerned exactly.  Childermass could have sworn that his lips were twitching, like he was fighting back a grin as he looked down at his book again.

You little shit, Childermass thought, and was about to express something along those lines when he was cut off again as the gentle, teasing invisible hand gripped him firmly and squeezed.  It felt like a relief, just a few little thrusts in such a tight grasp would have him coming in no time.  His hips thrust forward and he groaned loudly; it echoed around the vast library …

But just like that, the tight fist had gone and the light fingers had returned.  The groan turned into one of frustration as he felt a heavy throb in his balls at being denied his release. 

He moved a hand down to undo his breeches, to touch himself, but he heard a low, warning, “no,” from Norrell (who was still looking down at his book) and his hand obediently resisted the urge.  Instead he gripped the table with such force that he fear his fingers would break and he had to content himself with blindly thrusting against the aggravatingly light touch on his prick.

Sweat broke out over his brow and he had to bite his lip to stifle the embarrassingly loud moans he had been making.

“I can stop, if you want me to,” Norrell asked, not looking up from his book.

As much as this was absolute torture, it was the most delicious torture he had ever endured.  He shook his head resolutely, but did not say anything, not trusting himself to speak.  No doubt his voice would be pitiful and begging.

He was rewarded with another firm tug, from root to tip and another and another until he was climbing towards release again.  He could feel the steady thrum of it now, a strong bass note playing along his spine, the throb in his balls as the pressure built inside them.  He was moaning quite freely now as the warm, strong hand picked up speed, working him more frantically.

“Oh, yes,” he whispered as he felt himself on the cusp…

And just like that the feeling ebbed away and he let out a sharp cry of anguish.  He had been so close!

“…so close,” he practically sobbed.

After enduring another repeat performance, Childermass realised that Norrell had complete control over his body.  That no matter how he struggled, how many lascivious scenes he played out in his head to try and tip himself over the edge, he would not be able to come until Norrell allowed it.  The thought was both frightening and painfully erotic.  That the other man could have such power over him!  His cock throbbed at just the idea of it, making him cry out in exasperation.

He had to admit it.  Norrell had thoroughly surprised him with this little stunt.  For him to think of such a thing!  And in the library of all places!

“Oh God!” he gasped as suddenly, the hand was replaced by what felt like a hot, wet mouth, that was working up and down his shaft with more skill than he’d ever experienced.

The mouth suckled at the sensitive head for a moment, setting off fireworks behind Childermass’ eyes, before engulfing the whole of his cock and sucking furiously at it.  It picked up speed and it was then that Childermass felt the magic of it.  Nobody could actually move their mouth that quickly, or keep up that intense suction for long, but this wasn’t about realism.  This was about driving Childermass to the brink of madness with something so sublime.

He thought that he might be soon driven to begging and pleading when he felt a hand rolling and squeezing his balls.  That was before he felt a strong, sure finger breach him and press down upon that sensitive spot inside him.  It was enough to make him feel like he would die at any moment.

“Please, please,” he panted out, sweating and tearful.  “Oh, please let me…” he choked out, unable to complete his thought.

Norrell looked up from his book, still resolutely not looking at Childermass as he writhed in his chair behind the desk.  He had smiled to himself as he heard the familiar sounds of ecstasy coming from the other side of the library, the happy moans as he neared completion, the agonised groans as he was denied right at the last moment.

But Childermass had reached the end of his endurance now, and Norrell finally took pity on him.

“Oh, all right,” he said and snapped the book shut in front of him.

And with that, relief, at once the sharpest and the sweetest he had ever felt, washed over Childermass; spreading from his groin, through his body, hot and urgent, making his vision go white.  He let out no sound; his mouth just hung open in a silent scream as the pleasure of it stole his breath away.  It was the longest orgasm he had ever had in his life, and it left him drained, panting and sweating as he slumped back in his chair.

****

It felt like an eternity before he came back to his senses, but as he looked up finally through bleary eyes, he found Mr Norrell standing before him, flushed and aroused, his eyes a dark blue in the low light of the library, looking at him expectantly.

Childermass went to say something, but found that he was speechless.

Norrell seemed to get a little impatient with his silence.  “Admit it,” he said, “you are surprised.”

Childermass just blinked up at him for a time, trying to clear his vision.  Then, he felt a laugh bubble up through his tired body, and he let it out in a sleepy, affectionate chuckle.

“Oh, sir,” he said, reaching out a trembling arm to take Norrell’s hand into his own.  “Surprised?” he asked, his tone incredulous.  “Sir, I am astounded!”  Norrell smiled broadly at Childermass’ admission, pleased with himself.  “I am astonished!  Aghast!  Taken aback! Flabbergasted!  Amazed!”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Norrell interrupted irritably, “all right, Childermass, don’t overdo it.”

Childermass smiled up at his employer, who had gone shy again.  After all that, the things that he had conjured up, the havoc he had wreaked upon Childermass’ body, the fact that he was standing before him visibly aroused, with a firm erection pushing against the front of his breeches, he had fallen back into self-consciousness.  Childermass supposed some things would never change, and he was heartily glad of it.

Still exhausted, but feeling the need for real human contact, Childermass stood and gathered Norrell into his arms, kissing him with abandon until the older man released a groan into his mouth and ground his hips against Childermass.

Not breaking the kiss, Childermass, with more strength than he thought he had left, hoisted his employer back onto the desk, spreading his legs so he could stand between them.  He was still highly sensitive, his orgasm having left him over-stimulated, so it was painful as he thrust up against Norrell, but the little desperate sounds he made into his mouth spurred Childermass on.  Luckily, Norrell was so far gone that it would only take a few thrusts to tip him over the edge.

Norrell pulled his mouth away to gasp, “I still have my breeches on.”  But even with that he made no attempt to get away or stop Childermass.  In fact, he was still rutting against him, clinging to Childermass’ coat like a life-line.

“Well, you made me soil mine,” Childermass hummed against his throat as he sucked lightly at the scant inch of exposed skin above his cravat.  “I only thought it fair to return the favour.”

With a few more sharp thrusts, the dry friction against Norrell’s cock was both so painful and so exquisite, that he came with a sudden jolt, biting down on the shoulder of Childermass’ coat to stifle his ecstatic cry.

Norrell hid his face in Childermass’ shoulder as he came down from his high and Childermass just held him close.

“You didn’t have to go to so much trouble, sir,” Childermass said after a moment, resting his chin atop Norrell’s head.  “I would have been surprised that you had even thought of such a thing.”

Norrell looked up at him, his eyes narrowed.  “But then you would not have learned anything.”

“I see,” Childermass said with a sardonic grin.  “This was about teaching me a lesson, was it?”

Norrell blushed and bit his lip.  “Not exactly,” he whispered.  “I wanted to show you…I thought you might enjoy it.  You have shown me so much, I wanted to do something in return.”

“Oh, I did enjoy it!” Childermass said before kissing Norrell soundly.  “That was the most extraordinary thing!” he continued after breaking the kiss.  Norrell seemed both embarrassed and delighted by such praise.  “I think everyone should know how powerful a magician you have finally become.”  Then, as an afterthought said, “Although I would be careful who you performed that particular spell on.”

Norrell looked scandalised.  “Well, I wouldn’t do that on anyone else!”

Childermass felt suddenly very warm, like he had been lowered into a hot bath.  He had always been so certain that things would come to a sad end between Norrell and him, but sometimes, just occasionally he would allow himself these moments of hope.

“I should think not,” Childermass said, covering his sudden moment of weakness with a wry laugh. “Now, sir, I think we had better get ourselves cleaned up.  Then I suggest calling it a night.  I feel quite exhausted after all that.”

“How exhausted?” Norrell asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Childermass just shook his head and let out a sad sigh.  “I’ll be surprised if I can perform again for the rest of the week after that!”

“Oh,” Norrell replied, not doing anything to hide his disappointment.

“I’d be happy to return the favour though, sir.  If you’ll let me.”  He didn’t look at Norrell.  He knew how his master felt about him learning magic, about anyone but himself learning magic.

Yet Norrell seemed to be a war with himself over it this time; his selfish desire to be the only practical magician warring his other selfish desire to receive pleasure at all costs.  In the end he prevaricated.

“We shall see, Childermass.  We shall see.”


End file.
